


Helios

by rainingover



Category: B.A.P, K-pop
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, For profanity and mentions of sex, Groupverse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 19:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1700579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainingover/pseuds/rainingover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jongup thinks that maybe it's just all the jet-lag lately, but he can definitely feel genuine warmth sinking into his bones when Himchan laughs across the aisle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Helios

Kim Himchan is the sun.

Jongup decides this at 36,000 feet, on an aeroplane over the Pacific. He likes this metaphor, not only because he and Junhong are _really_ into space lately, but also because he thinks Himchan would appreciate it. He'd scoff, sure, but he'd smile afterwards. And, anyway, even though Jongup hasn't slept for twenty three hours, it all makes sense: Himchan is the centre of the solar system, a source of energy. Sometimes it hurts to look at him for too long.

Jongup closes his eyes and imagines he can really feel Himchan's gravitational pull from further along their row, until Daehyun digs him in the ribs and whispers, "We should probably accept the free mini bottles of liqueur from the air stewardess whilst Yongguk is asleep." Nods in the direction of their eldest. "And then shove them into Jae's bag so he gets in trouble if we're caught."

Jongup keeps his eyes shut. Hears a hiss from Youngjae, one seat over. "I heard that." Leaves them to bicker over him.

He thinks that maybe it's just all the jet-lag lately, but he can definitely feel genuine warmth sinking into his bones when Himchan laughs across the aisle.

Himchan is the sun.

\--

Jongup is aware that he isn't a very tactile person. Doesn't often feel the need to wrap an arm around the waist of the person on his left, or place a hand on the shoulder of whoever is on his right. It doesn't come naturally to him, not like it does to Himchan.

He sometimes wonders what it would be like, how it would feel to return the brush of his hand, the reassuring pressure of fingers curled around a shoulder, but Jongup refuses to allow himself the luxury, too many senses already overloaded with Himchan. Rationalises it like this: If he lets himself reach out too often, he is pretty sure the world will implode.

Either that, or he will inevitably give himself away. Definitely one or the other. So he keeps a quota in his mind, only reciprocating every so often. It's kind of weird, Jongup knows, but it works for now.

(The abyss hasn't opened up yet, anyway.)

\--

There comes a night in Winter on which everyone succumbs to despondency. The atmosphere is toxic, glumness filling every corner of the dorm.

No one is speaking. The TV is on, but no one is actually watching it, not really. They're keeping up the illusion of being together, but Jongup is pretty sure that if he stood up and left the room that no one would notice, at least for a while. Their eyes glazed over and brains overworked.

It's been one of _those_ weeks - those long, gruelling passages of time in which fourteen days worth of schedule is fitted tightly into seven, and everyone is grouchy, worn out, under the weather, or some combination of the three.

Yongguk's shoulders are knots, Daehyun's eyes are red raw, Youngjae's lips are chapped and Junhong is trying so hard to pretend he hasn't got a cold that he is feebly attempting to pass sneezes off as laughter over the movie on TV.

(It's not a comedy.)

Himchan rests his head on Jongup's shoulder, curls up close to his side. Jongup wants to reach up, brush the hair from his eyes. Doesn't. Feels blinded when their eyes meet.

Himchan lets out a small sigh, hot breath against Jongup's shoulder. Says, "Cheer me up, Jonguppie," in a small voice.

Jongup loads up some dumb animal video on his ipad, lets Himchan curl a hand around his arm and tug him closer, his eyes creasing into tiny crescent moons as he laughs.

Jongup bites back the lump in his throat, laughs along with him until Youngjae tells them to shut up.

He falls asleep that night to the sound of Himchan's laughter in his ears and wakes up with tears in his eyes at four thirty eight.

\--

Jongup thinks maybe he's become a crutch, or maybe that was the role he was assigned from the very beginning. Of the band, of their friendship. Of time.

He can't _remember_ falling in love with Himchan. Can't locate any sweeping moment in their history, can't pinpoint the exact point at which it fell into place. He doesn't think it was love at first sight. Maybe there was attraction, empathy, nervous anticipation as he'd been introduced to someone else he would be spending every waking moment with for the foreseeable future. No, it wasn't love at first sight, but it turned into that along the way. Grew and grew like the potted plants outside on the balcony, except they needed nurturing, needed encouragement to grow and this feeling had taken hold all by itself.

Jongup wonders, if Himchan had been colder, if he was naturally more quiet or naturally more serious or naturally less affectionate, if that would have made a difference. And then, Jongup realises, if Himchan was less tactile, less caring, less all of those things, well, he wouldn't be Himchan.

And so his pondering remains pointless.

\--

A text from Himchan: _Let's find a coffee shop._

Junhong reads out the text to Jongup loudly from his bed. Jongup is in the bathroom of their hotel room, trying to find the lid to screw back onto the shampoo bottle so that no more of it will disappear down into the plughole. Jongup thinks that it is a pretty amazing skill of Junhong's: losing the lids to every possible item. Toothpaste and shampoo and bottles of coca-cola.

"Where is the lid to the shampoo bottle?" he calls back, ignoring the mention of a text.

"Probably under my towel on the floor," Junhong admits. "I texted back for you. It says, _I'll meet you in 5 minutes, hyung!_ with two kisses. It definitely looks like you texted it."

Jongup bites his lip, hand fishing under the damp towel (no lid). "Oh. I was going to say no, though."

He gives up on the shampoo bottle, walks back into the hotel room, frown adorned face.

"No you weren't," Junhong replies simply, places the phone back on the bedside table.

Jongup opens his mouth to form a lie. "I'm tired, though," but Junhong doesn't even look up.

Just says, "No, you're not."

This time Jongup doesn't argue.

\--

Jongup does as the text message promises, meets Himchan in the foyer, feeling dumb at the anticipation that courses through his veins as he exits the elevator. Wonders if it will ever dissipate.

Walks through a city maze in silence as Himchan talks, let's him throw an arm around his shoulder, contemplates removing his sunglasses, because it's 9pm, and dark, and probably drawing more attention than deflecting it. He can't quite bring himself to do it, if only because it's easier to pretend he isn't tracing every line on Himchan's face with his eyes when they're behind tinted glass.

(Sunglasses.)

Jongup bites his lip at the realisation, suddenly wants to laugh, or possibly cry. Jongup is letting Himchan's image sink in, burnt into his retina a thousand times over, behind _sunglasses_.

"What's funny?" Himchan doesn't miss a beat.

Jongup shakes his head, as if that's an answer. Regrets it as Himchan's forehead creases. "Have I done something stupid again?"

"I'm just jet-lagged, hyung. Just-- my brain's gone funny."

Himchan's face lights up _(sun sun sun_ ). "Good, I love it when your brain goes funny." Nudges Jongup's shoulder with his own. "Cheer me up, Jonguppie."

\--

When they get to the coffee shop, Jongup removes his sunglasses, motions for Himchan to do the same. Doesn't want to be those sunglasses-indoors-people. Himchan would prefer to keep his on (likes being those people, isn't bothered who knows it), but he allows Jongup to slide them from his face and hand them to him carefully.

Himchan folds their pairs side by side on the table absentmindedly, drinks coffee with smiling eyes and pouts at Jongup when he bats the elder's hand away from his own mug.

"You don't even like hot chocolate, not really," Jongup holds his drink out of Himchan's reach, watches the flexing of his fingers as he grasps for the cup.

"You should start drinking double shot mochas instead, so I can share."

Jongup just grunts in response. Himchan drinks too much coffee as it is.

A comfortable silence follows. Jongup carefully watches Himchan in his natural habitat (coffee). Takes in the tips of his eyelashes; his eyes lowered, staring into his cup of coffee as though it holds the answers to all of life's questions.

He flinches when Himchan looks up, as if he's been caught staring ( _has_ been caught staring).

"What are you thinking about?" Himchan smiles, all white teeth, and Jongup merely shrugs with a grin, feels a flush over his cheeks. Looks down at his hot chocolate, milk swirling into mesmerising shapes. He peers in, just in case it holds the answers he needs.

(It doesn't.)

\--

A week between shows, and Jongup feels all off kilter. Is lucky, is used to being able to sleep non-stop from the moment his head hits the pillow, until their alarm blares in the morning (and sometimes beyond), but time has started to work against him.

He finds himself awake at 2am and it's unsettling.

The dorm is hot, the weather outside strangely humid for this time of year. Junhong's been having a nightmare. Jongup can tell from the way his legs are kicked out from under his blanket, and he wants to help, but doesn't know how. Frustrated.

He ends up in the kitchen, drinking milk from the carton and watching youtube videos on his ipad. He sits down gracelessly on the floor, bare skin of his back finding some relief from the heat in the cold of the fridge door.

Four videos in, Jongup hears someone clear their throat in the doorway and looks up, bracing himself, ready for a fond telling off from Yongguk about getting enough sleep. Instead is met with Himchan's furrowed brow.

"Out of the carton?" Himchan is shaking his head. "Aish. Give it here." He pads across the kitchen floor, bare feet, pyjama pants billowing around his toes. Takes the milk from Jongup's grasp and opens a cupboard, brings out two glasses and pours in the liquid with precision.

Himchan passes one of the glasses down to Jongup, and then sits down opposite him on the linoleum, clasping his own glass. He's cross legged and expectant.

"So?" he says.

"So?"

"So, why are you sitting in the kitchen on your own in the middle of the night? People will start worrying."

Jongup shrugs. "It's too hot." _This close to the sun._

And Himchan grins; eyes like crescent moons, white teeth. "You being "too hot" means nothing. You're always undressed when the rest of us are freezing."

"Not always," Jongup disagrees.

Himchan tilts head, pretends to think for a while. "Hmm. Maybe it's all the muscle. Or you're a vampire? Or are they cold? A werewolf, then?"

"The last full moon _was_ a bit strange." Deadpan expression.

Himchan lets out a full laugh and Jongup's stomach leaps a little. He still feels pride when he's able to make Himchan laugh - one of his full, no-holds-barred guffaws that light up his whole face. Feels it every time Himchan bursts into laughter, every time he says, "Ah Jongup, you're the funniest." Even when he's laughing at Jongup and not with him. There's never malice in Himchan's laughter, only fondness, so it's all the same to him.

Himchan pulls back his shoulders and Jongup can tell he's assessing whether to push further, whether he will be able to get the younger man to talk, or whether it's best not to pry.

He's tracing the rim of his glass with the tip of his forefinger when he says, "Shall we go back to bed now?" Affection in his words.

"You go." Jongup waves a hand, apologetic.

"Not without you." Himchan is determined. And Jongup's heart catches in his throat for a second. Has imagined scenarios like this before. Scenarios with this dialogue. A different resolution, though.

(Like, for example, Himchan is generally talking about the same bed when Jongup imagines it.)

Manages to form a sentence. "Honestly, hyung. I won't be able to sleep yet. I'm still burning up and- Oh..." Trails off as Himchan shifts, crawls across the floor until he's sat right next to Jongup.

"I'll sleep here then, for now," Himchan says, placing his head on Jongup's shoulder. He makes a lot of a show of getting comfortable, finding places to put his arms.

Himchan murmurs into his bare shoulder, "You're right though, you are warm-- hot, even." His palm against the top of Jongup's thigh, as though that's the natural place for it to be.

It takes just about everything in Jongup's power not to let himself get hard. Tries to think about anything else. Wonders when it got this bad and then isn't sure he wants the answer. Can't get to sleep for an hour, kept awake by the drumming in his ears, the soft breaths Himchan is emitting as he shifts in his sleep, or half asleep, definitely not fully conscious of his actions as his fingers slip between Jongup's own.

And Jongup curses silently, small panic in the depths of his mind that if he tightens his grip on Himchan's hand like he wants to, a telepathic message will float through the air, unstoppable, and Himchan will instantly _know_. That he will be able to tell how embarrassingly in love with him Jongup really is.

Jongup moves Himchan's hand gently and folds his own hands together awkwardly in his lap, a silent prayer for his own sanity.

He falls asleep by some miracle and dreams of cherry lipbalm tinted kisses with a pretty girl. Of a blue balloon floating up into the sky. And then of being the balloon, of floating up and up and up into the darkness, a mass of burning gas before him, pulling him in. And then of the cherry lipbalm again, of a hot tongue licking into his mouth, of low guttural moans and firm flesh, of pale skin, of pushing inside and a voice in his ear; "Cheer up the sun, Jonguppie, and then you can come."

Wakes up in alarm, breath hitched in his throat and Himchan's head on his thigh, practically in his lap. Himchan is sleeping soundly, goosebumps along his bare arms. Jongup's neck is stiff, his left leg all but dead. Trying desperately to recover from -- whatever that dream was.

Dream interrupted, he lets his body adjust to the new day. Looks down at the man in his lap ( _in his lap_ ). He wishes he didn't have to wake Himchan up, or at least wishes he could wake him up in ways he's only allowed himself to conjure up in fleeting fantasies and drawn out dreams.

Doesn't get time to contemplate this, as Himchan's eyes flutter open, lips sliding back, two front teeth on show; sleep laced features. Mumbles, "You're still warm."

Jongup can't help but smile, lets Himchan's eyes search his own. They're still waking up, still glazed over. Jongup thinks for a fraction of a second he sees longing in them that matches his own.

Decides that this is probably wishful desperation.

Neither make a move to get up, so Jongup allows himself some skinship. Plays with Himchan's hair until Junhong appears in the doorway, rubbing sleep from the corner of his eyes and then catching Jongup's eye with a questioning gaze.

Jongup just shrugs in response, says "Couldn't sleep," as if that explains why he's sitting on the kitchen floor at 6am, stroking Himchan's forehead in deft motions with a blush over his cheeks.

Himchan pushes himself up into a sitting position, laughs at Junhong's bed-hair and says, "Ah, you look cute, let me take a photo for instagram. The fans will love it!" Ignores Junhong's refusal, gets up and follows the youngest out of the kitchen, alert, awake, cheerful. Mood making within five minutes of being awake for the day.

Jongup sits still for a while, until he hears voices in the hallway, the turning on of the shower, noises that signal another day has truly begun. He has to walk around the kitchen for three minutes before the feeling is regained in his thigh and, when it does come back, Jongup is almost sad that the memory of Himchan there has been erased by his body.

\--

It's two weeks later and, if he's being honest with himself, Jongup isn't hot, doesn't have any real excuse to not be in bed, but it doesn't matter to him. He still sits down on the linoleum, presses his back against the fridge, flinching at the cold against his skin. Jongup likes the quiet calm of the empty kitchen, the low humming from the fridge behind him, the soft tick-tock of the wall-clock. The glow of the light from the hallway peeking round the door.

He's started doing this a lot lately.

It goes a bit like this: Falls asleep in the bedroom, stumbles through strange dreams about hurtling through space, that inevitably turn into him fucking Himchan. Wakes up in a cold sweat, convinced he's been sleep talking, even though he knows he doesn't sleep talk. He and Junhong compared and the conclusion was that, whilst Junhong sighs and mumbles, kicks and flinches, laughs and sometimes manages full sentences of spoken word, Jongup just-- sleeps. Just lies there, blank face, loose limbed. Could be dead if not for the very shallow breaths, the subtle rise and fall of his chest.

("I don't know which is creepier," Youngjae had said affectionately through a mouthful of breakfast one morning.)

He lies awake for a while, heartbeat echoing his ears, before he slides from his bed and along the hallway. Ends up with his back to the fridge, listening to the noises that only seem to exist in the dead of night. Trying to clear his mind of everything Himchan. Fills it up with facts about the moons of Jupiter, which he'll tell Junhong to keep him awake after rehearsal as they wait to shower.

Tells himself he's only doing this because it helps him clear his head, means that when he slips back into his bunk an hour or two later, he can close his eyes and be sure he'll drift off with ease and not because he hopes Himchan will wake up too, come keep him company, time alone.

Sometimes, he wonders if Himchan can read him, like he is pretty sure Junhong can these days. Thinks that maybe he's past worrying, that the sound of the words "come back to bed" on Himchan's lips is enough. Knows this is probably strange. Listens to the ticking of the clock, fills his mind with facts, and lets his hyung lead him back to the bedroom with a tired smile.

Just normal nocturnal activities.

\--

They leave Korea for promotions in Japan, spend the trip on a whirlwind press tour, three fanmeets and less time than usual for Jongup to think about the way that Himchan's kiss curl presses against his forehead in the humid weather (but, still time. Always time.) The only surprise of the promotion cycle comes on their last night, when the label throws a release party, which they're actually allowed to attend.

Himchan looks dubious. Says, "But just for the press event, right?" Suspicious eyes all round the table.

Manager Kang says "Your flight isn't until mid-afternoon tomorrow, so-" He pauses, and Jongup thinks Daehyun might be holding his breath in genuine anticipation.

"-You can stay until the end. Enjoy it, but be sensible."

Daehyun has his mouth close to Jongup's ear, his hand clamped around Jongup's shoulder, all but dragging him down the corridor, and is saying something about alcohol and getting fucked up and Youngjae being a lightweight these days in dramatically hushed tones. He is getting himself so excited, he looks as though he's going to give himself a haemorrhage.

Jongup lets Daehyun drag him into the elevator, manages to evade his grasp once inside. He's still talking. Yongguk clears his throat. Says, "For everyone's sake, can we try not to be hungover on the flight home?"

He's looking straight at Daehyun as he says it, but Daehyun doesn't notice.

\--

It's nearing 3am and Jongup has fallen out of orbit.

Jongup has always known that Junhong is tall, but now that he is hunched over the toilet pan in the small en-suite, shoulders taut, arms stretched out, he looks so big that Jongup doesn't understand it for a moment.

"It won't stop." He keeps repeating between retches. And-- Jongup has to admit, he doesn't seem to be exaggerating. Junhong has been vomiting for a long time. Jongup hasn't timed it, so he isn't sure _exactly_ how long it's been, but he can tell because the room has spun over four hundred times since Junhong's face turned white and he stumbled towards the bathroom.

Jongup feels kind of useless. He's only ever been drunk enough to vomit once, and he can't remember much of it. Just knows that, as terrible as Junhong feels now, he's going to feel worse in the morning.

Thirty eight spins of the room later, Junhong pulls back from the pan, crawls across the bathroom floor and into Jongup's lap. Says, "It stopped." in a quiet voice. And then promptly vomits again over Jongup's legs.

He texts Himchan: _Junhong won't stop being sick. Please help. Don't tell Yongguk-hyung._

The incredibly tall man in his lap mumbles, "I'm going to die now."

 _No. Tell Yongguk-hyung that it's my fault,_ he texts as a hurried addition.

Gets a reply a minute later: _He's coming to your room, & I'm going to Daehyun's room to kill him._

Jongup texts back _I said my fault._

A reply comes through ten seconds later:

 _And I don't believe you_.

\--

Yongguk has a disappointed face on when he enters.

He looks half asleep; had clearly done the right thing and had gone straight to bed once the party had ended. Rather than the wrong thing, which, in this case was being privy to Daehyun persuading a waitress to let him "borrow a couple of those bottles," because "it would be a shame to let them go to waste" and "what time did her shift end?" And then privy to the bottles being opened. And then helping to consume the bottles.

Not looking out for his best friend.

Those are all _wrong things_.

"I'll stay here." Yongguk presses a keycard into Jongup's palm. "Room 786. Go on."

Jongup hesitates, wants to help. The room spins again.

"Go on, Jongup."

Jongup goes, imagines gravity pulling all the way to Himchan's room.

\--

He peels off his jeans. They stick to his calves, damp material against his skin. He feels drained, blurry. Drunk.

Himchan says "Do you want to take a shower?"

"It only got on my clothes." Jongup shrugs, pushes the denim into the laundry bag with too much force, and sits down on the bed (also with too much force). Takes off his t-shirt too for good measure.

Himchan laughs. "Are you sure? You're not  _vomity_?"

Jongup shakes his head.

"I can still run you one if--."

"I don't want to." Feels stubborn, bites his cheek. "I-- What if Junhong's really ill tomorrow?"

Himchan rests his back against the headrest, smiles. "He'll recover, honestly. This one time Daehyun was...Well, I don't know how we managed to get him to bed without waking you and Junhong." Wrinkles his nose at the memory. "Anyway, Yongguk will take good care of him."

Jongup doesn't feel much better, but he doesn't want to keep lamenting. Says, "It's cold in here."

"Oh, so now you're cold for once! Well if you had some clothes on, or got under the covers" - Himchan moves over, pats the bed, - "You'd be back to your usual way too hot self." Grins to show he's trying to lighten the atmosphere.

Jongup can't remember how to move his legs, so he stays still. Looks down at the outline of his feet against the sludge green carpet.

"Jongup, please just come lie down here. You don't get enough sleep these days. And if you don't get enough sleep, I worry. And if I worry, I don't get enough sleep. And if _I_ don't sleep, I will get those terrible eyebags and the make-up noonas will kill me."

"The make-up noonas love you." Jongup disregards Himchan's monologue.

"Only when I don't have eyebags."

Jongup blinks. Speaks before his brain has time to register. "You don't have eyebags. You remind me of the sun."

Himchan looks directly at him, flicker of a smile. "You're a very cute drunk, Jongup."

Jongup knows he's humouring him and it burns through his skin. Doesn't want to be humoured. "Ask me to come to bed again." It's probably the alcohol, he realises, but it seems okay to just say it.

"What?"

"I don't know."

(Maybe it wasn't okay to say.)

Himchan stares for a while. Gathering thoughts. "I'd-- I'd share a bed with you. I mean, I'd probably get distracted and wouldn't get my 6 hours sleep. I'd get eyebags. But-- I'd... If you wanted to, I would." He's looking at his hands now. "We're close. I know we're close."

Jongup feels like his legs are moving on their own now. They move him over to the head of the bed, slip inside. "I'm in bed now." He isn't sure what he's doing, but also isn't sure how to stop. "I want to distract you. I... You looked really good at the party tonight."

"Stop being drunk." Himchan is still looking at his hands.

The headboard feels awkward behind Jongup's back. "I can't."

Himchan isn't looking at his hands anymore. Has a strange look in his eyes that makes Jongup feel like he's looking in a mirror.

Jongup notices the room spinning out of the corner of his eye, thinks _fuck it_ and presses a firm kiss to the corner of Himchan's mouth. Feels Himchan's lips part beneath his, a glimmer of a response. Tentative, almost.

Until- a firm palm on his chest, the wet pop of lips leaving lips as Himchan pulls back, wipes his mouth. "No--You're drunk. And... You're drunk." Himchan has his eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed, as he leans his head right back against the headboard.

"If I wasn't drunk?" It comes out in a small voice, more pathetic than Jongup wants it to.

"Then you wouldn't have kissed me."

"Probably not. I'd still have wanted to, though. I always want to."

Himchan frowns. There are goosebumps on his shoulders. "Maybe I should sleep in Yongguk's bed," he says.

"Oh."

"Jongup, don't -- Don't "oh" me. You're really drunk and you're upset about Junhong and you're-" he waves an exasperated hand "-basically naked. I can't. I'm trying to be responsible here. Okay?"

"Okay." Jongup's eyes are heavy. He's spinning with the room and regretting all previous decisions as he does.

Himchan hesitates for a moment, before shaking his head and easing out of the bed. "Get some sleep, Jongup-ah."

Jongup wonders if he'll dream about fucking him when he falls asleep or if he'll just dream about being sucked into the burning centre of the sun.

\--

He dreams about both and then wakes up to Himchan murmuring above his face, creased brow and worried eyes.

"Ah, good." Jongup watches him step back slightly. "You looked dead. I was worried," he scratches his neck awkwardly. "I'll go to your room for you, get you some clothes." And then he's gone, door gently closed behind him.

Jongup's mind is thick fog, but he remembers Junhong's red eyes, peeling wet jeans from his legs, Himchan looking beautiful. Kissing him and then falling asleep as the ceiling had spun above him.

"Shit" he says it out loud. Himchan knows, he _knows_. "Shit, shit shit, _shit_."

Jongup closes his eyes, feels the bed swallow him up, as the world caves in around his body, and he is pulled down into a great chasm of darkness. But, then Himchan is back, door opening, chatter filling the room, "I brought two options for tshirt. Oh and I couldn't find your socks?" and Jongup realises, to his dismay, that the world hasn't imploded at all.

Jongup isn't sure how to feel about this. Opts for 'hungover' and leaves it at that.

\--

Back in Korea, Jongup starts to wonder if he imagined the whole scenario in the hotel room.

Maybe it was just one of many (so many) dreams, blurring through to the waking world. Maybe it never happened at all. Maybe he didn't tell Himchan that he looked like the _sun_ (which, is starting to sound more and more abstract and make less and less sense by the day, even for him). Maybe he didn't frustrate Himchan into some small, very roundabout, kind of vague confession of reciprocity, maybe, or least understanding. Attraction.

Himchan goes on as normal; links arms and brushes shoulders, sighs into his ear as they climb into the van, "Cheer me up, Jonguppie." Pulls Jongup in, gravity working its magic.

Jongup wonders if anything will ever change.

\--

A week later, the usual interview before a performance. Jongup at Himchan's side (gravity). He blinks, feels a firm hand on his shoulder, thinks that it would be strange if he didn't, really.

Counts flashes from behind the camera and realises that now there is nothing stopping him from returning the touch. He doesn't have to worry that some subconscious message will flow between them. Not since he took most of his clothes off and pressed his mouth against Himchan's with a belly full of alcohol and eyes swimming with light.

And Himchan hadn't told him to fuck off, to never speak to him again, hadn't cast him out into the darkness. Had poured him a large glass of orange juice and brought him waffles up from the breakfast bar.

("I only want a coffee," he'd waved away the waffle Jongup had held out for him. Had settled into the chair across the room and sipped his coffee. No one had spoken after this, but somehow the air had felt light, tension free.)

Yongguk, along the row, is giving one of his usually well thought out and sincere responses to questions they've been asked a thousand times. Jongup just keeps smiling, shifts to slide his arm across Himchan's lower back, slips it under the material of his shirt, fingertips grazing the waistband of his trousers. Stares straight ahead. Feels Himchan's eyes on his face for a split second. His grip on Jongup's shoulder tightens.

Still the ground remains firm beneath his feet.

\--

He doesn't even mean to end up in the kitchen anymore. Genuinely needs a drink in the dead of night, wanders into the kitchen, leans against the cabinets as he sips milk from the carton, until-

"Whats up, Jongup-ah?"

Himchan.

"Oh, nothing, hyung. You can go back to sleep." Jongup means it, doesn't want to keep him up.

(Knows he's been worrying about his skin lately, overheard him talking to the makeup noona in hushed tones yesterday, wanted so badly to place a palm against his cheek and declare him the most beautiful person in the entire world.

Hadn't done this. Obviously.)

Himchan shakes his head, takes the milk carton straight out of Jongup's hand and returns it to the fridge, replacing Jongup's now empty fingers with his own. Says, "You're not staying in here all night by yourself. You're just not. You're-- come get into bed with me." There is apprehension on his face.

Jongup feels light headed. Manages a stoic smile, tries to slip his hand free. Says, "It's okay, I'm just thirsty. I'm fine"

Isn't sure if he is.

(Terrible liar.)

Himchan catches his fingertips before they slip away. "I want you to-- I'm-- The sun is lonely." Smiles, as though to make it clear that he's only half serious. But not mocking. Just joining in on the strange half reality they're living in at the moment.

Only just remembering to breathe, Jongup finds the ability to return the smile. Says, "I'm sorry about what happened when I was drunk. I don't think I apologised the next day." He bites his lip. His fingers are kind of sore. Himchan is gripping them so tightly it's like he's worried that if he lets go, one of them may go spinning off out into the darkness of the solar system.

Himchan looks nervous. Says, "You _were_ really drunk that night," whilst staring through him. Adds quickly, a light hearted aside, "I'm glad I was basically sober, because..." He falters, trailing off with a small laugh.

"Because?" Jongup is starting to feel hot now.

Himchan misunderstands, thinks Jongup is genuinely confused and not just fishing for elaboration (or, possibly, Jongup thinks, he understands, but he's stalling all the same). Says, "Jongup-ah, you told me you think of being in bed with me, or something" As if he can't remember every word. "You kissed me."

"You almost kissed me back," Jongup replies.

"Is an almost-kiss a thing?"

"It must be, it happened."

Makes Himchan laugh for a second, before his eyes darken. "Did you mean those things?"

Ah, Jongup thinks, maybe _this_ is the world-imploding-end-of-everything moment. "Will it mess everything up if I tell the truth?"

"It would make me sad to hear you lie to me, more than anything."

"I meant them." Jongup thinks, _hell_ , if this is the end of the world, it may as well end with a sweeping statement. "You're perfect."

"Jongup," Himchan says, exasperated. "I'm already finding it hard to be sensible here, without-" Sighs. "You're a really amazing person and you don't even know it, do you?"

Jongup evades the compliment. "You don't hate me then?"

" _Jongup_."

Jongup lets this sink in. "If I get into bed with you.. What does it mean?"

"We've slept in the same bed before."

"Yes, _before._ "

"You know, I really do want to be the older, sensible one." That look in his eyes that feels like staring into mirrored glass. "But, honestly? I wanted to kiss you back in the hotel room."

Jongup tries not to smile.

"Come to bed." Himchan says. Adds hastily, "Nothing can happen tonight, though. In bed, I mean. It's not fair-- and we need to sleep, we have schedules, and--" He's rambling. Jongup grins and he stops, reddens and grins back (white teeth, crescent moon eyes).

They stand there for what feels like something close to eternity, until Himchan takes a step backwards, Jongup following, still connected by the smallest amount on the surface (fingertip under forefinger and thumb). Jongup's mind is racing, his skin is on fire.

Himchan is leading him to the bedroom.

To get into his bed.

With him.

Knowing that he wants to--

Jongup's thoughts are interrupted by Himchan adding, "You have to stop drinking milk out of the carton, you know."

\--

He falls asleep with his chest pressed against Himchan's back and a smile filling his entire being. Dreams of fucking and the sun and everything else he can't control and wakes up feeling energy coursing through his veins and a warm glow inside him. Wonders if this is what photosynthesis feels like for the potted plants on the balcony.

Himchan whispers, "Own bed before the others wake up," and unravels his limbs from Jongup's, watches as he slips into his own bunk.

Jongup catches an open eye on Junghong's face as he slides past. Knows he won't tell. Is sure he isn't surprised, anyway.

It rains all day, but Jongup just laughs as the rain soaks through his t-shirt, takes his time, drags his feet on their way out of the studio.

Daehyun says, "Where has the sun gone?" as they head towards the van, and Jongup catches Himchan's eye on purpose, dips his head and smiles.

\--

Jongup kisses Himchan again four mornings later, and this time there is nothing almost about his response.

\--

Himchan frowns a lot during rehearsal, big, deep sighs and frustrated grunts. "I just can't-- How many beats before we turn?"

(Good Actor At Work.)

He puts on a subtle show of fumbling through steps. It is a hard routine, and Jongup is aware that it takes a lot for Himchan to get fully into the flow, but Himchan _knows_ this routine. Jongup has watched him in the mirror out of the corner of his eye often enough to be sure that he perfected the turn a week ago. Hears him say, "I'm going to stay behind, just for 30 minutes or so. I'll cook dinner for you guys when I get home," as they pull on jackets and pack backpacks onto their tired shoulders, practise over for the night. He kicks Jongup on the shin as he passes by.

Jongup takes his cue. "Um, do you want me to stay behind; make sure you've got it down?" He's not such a good actor, but no one is listening to their parody anyway; Youngjae and Junhong stuffing earbuds into their ears, Daehyun talking loudly about some girl he's been texting (probably, Jongup notes, for Youngjae's benefit, although the latter doesn't seem to be listening).

Yongguk nods, says "Thirty minutes." Likes to know everyone is home safe.

Jongup sits down on the wooden bench against the wall, stretches his arms up above his head. Listens as the noise (Daehyun) in the hallway outside grows further away. The sensor lighting turns off outside and Himchan closes the door with a flat palm.

"You know this dance," Jongup says. Knows it's not real, but needs to be certain.

"Uhuh," Himchan is stood in front of him. "Come here."

Jongup pushes himself off the bench. His skin is still hot from practise, the muscles in his calves are burning, but it feels good. There is apprehension in his bloodstream when he reaches Himchan.

Apprehension maybe, but need definitely. Wonders if he is imagining the static electricity running up his spine as he slides his mouth over Himchan's. Hungry. Starving. Imagines years without rain, lets the sensation of getting fill his entire body. Feels Himchan's familiar skin against his own, thumbs against hip bones, one thumb hooked underneath the waistband of Himchan's jeans.

Himchan laughs, breathless. "Slow down."

"We only have twenty eight minutes," Jongup pants, pulls away for a second. Mumbling, "I feel like I'm in outer-space."

"Oh god." Jongup can't tell if Himchan is groaning at the crap he's spewing or just groaning, as he leans back in, lips against his jaw, teeth grazing over the angles clumsily.

"You and fucking space." Himchan mutters afterwards, and Jongup laughs against his skin.

It takes all of Jongup's restraint not to just lick thick strips against Himchan's neck. Likes the way he tastes, all dried perspiration and remnants of aftershave lotion. Pulls him closer, presses against him. Hears Himchan moan and feels a hot flush of-- of pride, or something. Prideful lust. Two sins in one. Jongup wants to laugh, wants to pull Himchan down onto the floor, and laugh and laugh and kiss and touch and work through every fantasy he's ever had about the man under his mouth.

Places his palm against Himchan's crotch, and smiles into his mouth as Himchan lets out a low whine. Slips his hand underneath the clothing, knows he's being kind of clumsy, kind of over-eager.

Isn't usually, has always been in control, knows he's good at fucking (he'd say good _in bed_ but he can't remember the last time there was a bed involved. That's a luxury, a time-constraint, something regular people get to to -- people who keep pets and work 9-5, and laugh whilst they say, "Just one more donut" at lunchtime. People with more than thirteen minutes to fuck before the next rehearsal starts.)

But this is different-- this isn't just pulling some willing trainee down onto a sofa with him after three awkward almost-dates, this is _Himchan_ kissing him back, bucking up against his touch and writhing, damp skin under his fingers, the closest he's ever been.

Himchan is tugging at his t-shirt, and Jongup is quick to oblige, the cold rush of air against his back as he tugs it over his head, urges Himchan to do the same, relishes in the touch of skin against skin, pulls him as close as is possible, belt buckle on Himchan's jeans clinking like some bizarre reminder that they're not naked yet.

"I dream about this a lot." Jongup hears words escape him, isn't sure why he's still speaking, not when Himchan's hand is below the waistband of his sweatpants. Wants Himchan to know just how much he's been wanting this.

Hot mouths on damp skin, fingers tangled in hair, tight grips and low moans and everything that Jongup has wanted, and then the beep of a phone, a message across the screen:

_Dae says he's literally starving, come back and make dinner :(_

\--

Afterwards, Jongup says, "I won't be able to practise in here without thinking about this." Laughs.

Himchan lets out a long laugh as he turns his t-shirt back the right way, slips it over his head. Says, "I swear you look like you're thinking of sex when you dance anyway."

Jongup ponders this for a moment. "Sometimes I am," he nods.

And Himchan groans, "I have a hard enough time learning new routines without knowing you're thinking about sex whilst I'm trying not to step on everyone's feet."

"Step on my feet, I don't mind," Jongup replies, zipping up his hoodie.

Himchan is still grumbling as they close the studio door behind them.

\--

A rare afternoon of quiet in late Spring, and their favourite local coffee shop like a beacon in the night. The barista asks if they're having "the usual", but Jongup shakes his head. Orders a (single shot) mocha, takes an experimental sip, closing his eyes for a moment (the only true way to work through the taste).

"It-- it could be worse. Maybe with more sugar?" He declares. The most positive way he can spin 'hell no'.

Himchan says, "It was worth a try," takes the cup from Jongup's hand and starts drinking. Scrunches his nose, saying, "too sweet" between sips. Not that it stops him from drinking it, Jongup notes, laughing.

Himchan feigns offence. "Hey! No kisses for people who laugh at me."

Jongup doesn't stop, just reaches over the table to push at Himchan's shoulder. Watches the sun glint off the gold of his watch as he moves his arm back. Distracting.

"What are you thinking about?" A voice brings him back to Earth, and when he looks up, Himchan is there, coffee cup against his lips, eyes shining, still laced with laughter.

Jongup soaks it in, takes his time. Replies, "You."

And the universe doesn't dare to implode.


End file.
